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552 words in 14 minutes at 08:50 AM on Mar 21, 2017

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459 words in 10 minutes at 08:52 AM on Mar 20, 2017


What can I tell you about my Marion. She has been my rock when life has been utter shit.. like the time my mother had a car accident that nearly took her life.. I really thought I was going to loose her. She was in a coma for three weeks (I was 9) but eventually made a full recovery. While she spent 11 weeks in hospital I mainly stayed in Marion’s house, sharing a bed with her and sometime she would bunk in with SISTER’s NAME so I could have a good cry to myself. It was tough going after the accident. Doctor’s didn’t know if my mom would make it out the other side. A truck doing a U turn on the road didn’t see her coming and swung right out knocking our car over a ditch. She was alone in the car thankfully but sometimes I feel guilty I wasn’t there to share the pain with her. Marion was the first person I called when I was taken out of school to my uncle’s house. I stayed with my uncle (he has no family) for a few days and he was cool but I was a bag of emotion and he hasn’t a clue how to handle a nine year old but Marion’s mom did and it was my Marion that held me when I cried at night, It was my Marion who promised I could live with her forever if mom didn’t make it.
Marion was also there the day I discovered I got my first period. She had gotten hers about four months previous so had warned me about it. We were actually at the cinema about to go and see the latest installment of MOVIE when I could just feel something off. I felt wet and hadn’t a clue why. A quick investigation in the smelly cinema toilets confirmed what Marion had said. My underwear was bright pink and although it was pretty disgusting and I ran out of there mortified I also felt proud. Proud that I was into the next stage of my life and that I made it with very little war wounds. Plus I just couldn’t wait to get big boobs. Marion and I were 11 when we became women.
Have we had a few disagreements. We sure have. In fact only a few weeks ago we didn’t speak for three days over something I said. I told her that I thought she should chill out about her midterm exams (Marion was a genius at school unlike me) and she flipped the lid saying I didn’t understand the need for her to get good grades now so she could get into a good college and become an engineer (or some crap like that). ..

464 words in 11 minutes at 09:09 AM on Mar 14, 2017 | comments

… and quickly parted ways, with him quietly saying “see you later”.
What did that mean? That he wanted to see me again? Or was he just being polite. Head wrecking isn’t the word. But boy was I floating through the corridors of St. Mary’s Secondary School that day.


I live in a quiet estate. It’s an older estate and most of the kids have grown up and flown the nest. Some even have their own kids, making some of my mother’s friends grannies. Weird as they don’t look so old to me but I guess they are. There is three other teenagers in my 40-house estate. Dermot is 17 I think. He is much older than me and seems to keep to himself. You can tell he a bookworm just by looking at him and my mother only told me last week that his mother said he wants to go to Trinity College to become a doctor. I’d be impressed except he never seems happy. I definitely would’t want him becoming my doctor and looking at my private areas in years to come. Oh god the mortification.

The other two teenagers are siblings. One of them is my bestie. Marion is the same age as me and has an older sister who is 16 (and was caught giving a guy a blow job behind the easter break disco recently and there was uproar.. Her name is Sheila and I haven’t seen her since. She has been grounded for eternity. Her mother is nice.. in face I would even go as far as to say she is like a second mother to me. I’ve known Marion and Sheila my whole life. Our mothers aren’t great friends but the girls and I grew up five houses apart so it was enivitable that we were always going to be close.

I can tell anything to Marion. She is my rock and I’d be lost without her. She is taller than me, we both look the same and sometimes we even fancy the same guy. This happen only last summer. His name was Rian. He was visiting from London (his granny lives at the front of our estate) and we both thought he was the hottest guy to ever grace our beautiful country. In the end non of us won. We became great friends but that was as far as he would take it anyway. He lied (I’m sure he was lying) about having a girlfriend back in England. For fuck sake he was 15. Get over yourself. Anyway as much as we tried he was having none of it but what Marion doesn’t know is on his final night in Ireland she had to go visit her cousins so it was up to me to give him his final farewell. We walked to the local shop and got ice-cream (I even think I paid for it). We chatted about the usual crap but just as we had to say our final goodbyes he gave me a hug, and a very sweet peck on the cheek.. That surely had to mean he fancied me right?

528 words in 10 minutes at 09:18 AM on Mar 13, 2017 | comments

Choices, Choices, I hate fucking choices.. Why is everything in my life so complicated. Do you want chicken or beef for you dinner Lara, Would you prefer to get the bus to school today or walk? My head in melting and I’m finding the more choices I’m given the harder it is to decide. Does that make sense. I’ve enough going on in my complicated little mind than to worry about making stupid choices. Couldn’t my mother just cook one or the other for dinner and not ask me. Can’t I just take the bus to school every day that way I won’t have to worry about making the decision when I wake up in the morning. She has to give me money every morning for the bus. It’s not bloody easy being 14 you know. Not one little bit.

Right, I’m a little irate this morning. I’ve just woken up to find the biggest zit I’ve ever seen in my life errupt right under my nostrels. How am I going to face my class of 36 students. They will only see this. And worse still what if HE sees it. There is a good chance our paths will cross when I’m going to my English class at 12.10. We usually do pass each other out at this time on a Monday (and at 3.20 on a Tuesday and 9.40 on a Thursday). Somedays he notices me, other days he just walks right by.

HE is utterly gorgeous. Think a cross between Justic Bieber and ?… He is 15 but looks like he is about to do his leaving cert. He is in 3rd year, I’m in 2nd. But that doesn’t matter. I don’t think it does anyway. I’m not saying he even knows I like him, well not officially anyway, but he would be utterly stupid (and he is far from stupid) to not notice me. I get all hot under the collar when we brush past each other on the corridor in school. Our elbows my gently caress as we pass each other likes ships in the night but it’s like this, every single word my English teacher utters in our 12.10 class goes right over my day-dreaming mind.

His name is Jason. He lives on the other side of town and is fairly cool in my opinion. Well I think he is anyway. My friends thinks he is only “alright” but I can see more than they can see. I can see past the brown eyes, pale skin and toned bod! I can see a guy who is sensitive, kind, and smart. How I hear you ask.

Well let me take you back to the start of this academic year. We were about two weeks into the year, mid September if my memory serves me correctly. On this particular day I was slightly moody (but not for long) and had just gotten off the school bus to find I forgot my PE gear. I knew I’d get shit later from my teacher for this (there is this new policy about physical education being necessary for all students and possible detention for not attending). I was walking in the school gates alone and having a little rant to myself when I tripped over a curb and landed right on my knees and palms. Could I be more mortified. The contents of my school bag (including my tampons my I add) were strewn across the school yard and there was I trying to gather myself quickly to not look like the biggest fool in the school that day. And then I heard him!

“Lara, are you okay”?

I recognised his voice straight away. It belonged to Jason. I fancied him from about Christmas of the year before and only heard him speak a few times- we once had a conversation about which Chinese in town we thought was the best.

As I try to descend from the doggy position I had landed in, he outstreched his hand to give me a helping hand! My God I couldn’t believe this. Was my hand actually interlocking with Jasons. Was I dreaming? My night and shining armour had come to save the day. He must fancy me? Surely he wouldn’t have bothered if he didn’t see something in me right?

As I accepted his help, he quickly yanked me to my feet, let my hand go to pick up the bits of my bag that were all over the ground (he skipped passed the tampons but I could forgive him for that) as I dusted myself off. Again, he asked was I okay.

I was so nervous (and when I get nervous I don’t shut up) I proceeded to tell him I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and about forgetting my PE gear and a slew of other shite that I can’t exactly remember now.

As I talked we walked into the school together and ….

828 words in 24 minutes at 09:18 AM on Mar 06, 2017 | comments

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